That was the first time I saw Elaine. And she sure did live up to her reputation of Velvet kiss's top girl.
I crossed my legs and arched my back, hands one on top of the other over my knee cap. The gathers of my soft cotton dress fell onto the floor as the split of my maxi dress divided right at where my legs were entwined, revealing my bare thighs. I was comfortable and well practiced in that posture having done that too often.
4 impeccably dressed gentlemen entered the room. Through the hazy air and tinted lights, I could make out that they were probably from HongKong and Korea in their late 30s. Expensive watches gleamed at me as they extended their hands for a shake, to which I stood up and batted my lashes, with just a faint smile across my lips. Elaine however, leaned forward to peck one of them on both cheeks and proceeded to give the remaining 3 men a hug each.
I took my seat, and waited for the cue of their first toast. The bubbly champagne tickled my esophagus as I took a sip. The men then gestured for us to sit as two of them took either of my sides. They made small talk drenched in various slang and accents as we downed glasses after glasses of the champagne. I popped strawberries to satiate my hunger pangs as the men went on about their upcoming business collaboration.
Halfway through the guessing games, Tiffany knocked on our door. I was called upon to put on a dance for two of my regulars, Gerald and Lincoln. Raising my wine glass, I proposed my last toast before courteously taking my leave. Elaine paid no attention upon my departure, nor did the man she pecked on the cheeks. The remaining men however, gave their nods of permission whilst Jerry, the one who sat next to me, leaned forward for a hug and left me his personal namecard.
I took it with both hands and gave a curt bow before gathering my shawl and clutch. I clearly did not enjoy myself and I was not afraid to show it. If I had to name something that made my name in this field of work, that would be it; My temperament. And it was something that hanging out with Cary had taught me. I did not succumb to following her footsteps by forgoing my ego and my character simply to fit in to the atmosphere nor the people. I could do just fine without people who disregarded me. On the contrary, I would do anything for people that were worth it. It was the sincerity of the trade that was often absent in society.
I wanted to remain true, and unforgettable. And I made it a point to always get what I want, not spoilt, but pure hard work. And if something doesn't tickle my fancy, I will never choose to forcibly accommodate by accepting it. The reverse psychology at play ensured men fought to win my fancy, waiting patiently whilst I decide whose room do I want to entertain that night. Leather goods from LV, Chanel and Gucci were showered generously, to which I adamantly reject, fueling the men's desire to extinguish the burning of their ego. That was the identity that I have worked hard for, no thanks to the stubborn Aquarian in me which stood staunchly to my beliefs.
Gerald and I went way back, having met at Imperial thanks to Lisa's introduction. He was her father's ex business partner. It was hard to describe the attraction between us, but we were special to each other. And I always knew how to tear past his defenses and read him like a book, which was useful as he became a VIP at Velvet Kiss when he was informed of my job hop.
Smoothing the crinkles on my maxi dress, I strutted out of the room and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. UV light shone through the semi opaque frosted glass scones hanging on the wall. Images of artistically nude women hung from the walls pasted with lavish vintage slate black wallpapers. The UV light made the corridors appear almost futuristic. Various girls dressed in sexy masquerade costumes brushed past us with unison greeting of "Hello Violette" as I replied with a polite smile.
"Gerald appears to be in a very bad mood today. He raised his voice at Tanya just now and it almost drove her to tears. Our section is losing money to Naomi's girls... We have to push bottles for Gerald's room. Work some magic okay?" Tiffany spoke really fast as we made our way back to our powder room.
She was draped in a soft silken bathrobe that revealed a little of her upper torso that was squeezed into a really tiny hot pink corset from La Perla. Her breasts were boosted by the wiring of the bustier cups and padding. They looked ghastly pale under the UV light, zipped up so tight that it was almost asphyxiating to watch. Tiffany was a thai-mix chinese, a soft spoken girl who hardly talks, but extremely intelligent. She was really petite, probably tinier than Cary and had naturally light hazel brown hair.
Tiffany was the closest colleague that I let in within the boundaries of my personal life. Her intellect ensured we always had enriching and productive conversations which were like a breath of fresh air as compared to the shallow and pretentious tête-à-têtes with the rest of the bimbo-tic staff. In the exchange of our secrets, she confessed she was addicted to drugs; To which I have been working hard to help her curb the dangerous habit. I knew that every girl working here had their dark secrets, and thus I gave leeway when their attitudes seemed almost unbearable.
I almost forgot to add, it has been 3 months since my 21st birthday. I no longer work for Imperial having gotten headhunted by Winnie, my current manager to work at Velvet Kiss, one of the most premium gentlemen's clubs in Singapore. There was an incredible pay hike, more demanding job scope, bitchier girls but... really rich men. Much has changed in the brief 2 years, and all that I can say is that I was just starting to truly live, all over again.
Cary and I were halfway through with our Bachelor degree, and to nobody's surprise, she was still together with Kevin, who had gotten her enough Chanel bags to open a store. Lisa had gone back to Taiwan for a long holiday, coming back in a few months' time whilst MiMi secured her study permit and was in her first year at a private U. She got together with a douche bag who somehow never failed to make her cry. And all of us were still as close as before.
Although the school fees were still a struggle, I breathed easier having started work at Velvet Kiss, indulging in a spa or manicure every now and then thanks to the occasional nudge from Cary. I was still standing at 1.65m tall, but I had gotten shapely from the weekly yoga class. My breasts were not large, but satisfactorily sizable and extremely perky, no thanks to all the trouble I gone through, of course. I decided to tone down on my hair color, choosing a muted dark chocolate brown. I pampered my strands with a daily regime of expensive treatment until my hair was naturally tousled and curled seductively at the ends. And, I finally shed my contact lenses for Lasik which was very much encouraged by Cary for the practicability and discouraged by MiMi due to the after-effects.
Tiffany and I charged into the powder room, make up brushes brewed a snow storm as we touched-up our make up in a bustle, our eyes glued to the ticking second hand of the clock. I stripped, my hands ransacking the clothing rack for my bottom gear as Tiffany helped me with my corset, pulling hard at the ribbons to eliminate any space. It was constructed entirely from lace, held together solely by metal boning. The sweetheart bust-line was double lined with more lace for modesty and the half cups ensured my breasts sat snugly within the bindings, my cleavage enhanced by a smart flick of the bronzing powder.
The shape of my curves loomed prominently as the corset held its position, my fair skin peeking through the translucency of the lace. I fumbled clumsily into a black ballet mini that was pure mesh and satin piping. I chose sheer thigh high stockings to match my lace garters which had ribbons on either side of the thighs. Tiffany sprayed a fine mist over my hair to freshen up. One last spritz of the perfume, more lip gloss, and I was ready for work. We donned masquerade masks which matched the theme of our section, mine had a black feather at the side that bounced merrily with every step as my heels barely made noise against the soft carpet.
We took the lift to the upper floor, where the more exclusive rooms were reserved for the VIPs. Dark wood paneling inlaid with gold centerfold moldings were chosen for the walls which was more tastefully expensive than the lower floors. Chandeliers hung from the tall ceilings, looking wispy in their soft solemn glow, illuminating the romantically darkened hallways sprinkled with generous wall murals and art pieces. Faint yet refined laughter could be heard reverberating from the rooms.
Tiffany held my hand as we navigated through the confusing corridors, and finally, we arrived at the Penthouse suite. The room had a 180 degree view of the urban landscape of the CBD area. The city lights were saturated with bewitching glamour as the colorful brilliance streamed in through the free falling windows. The party was in full swing as the other girls piled up on the couches and patio chairs. Random party guests made out in the fizzy hot tub as the water jets bubbled in changing colors.
I tried to make out the familiar silhouettes of Gerald or Lincoln, and I finally spotted Lincoln seated on the daybed, an unknown colleague of mine by his side, trying to cajole and coerce him into drinking more wine. The mask made it hard to see, and the inadequacy of light was not helping. The Penthouse featured a mini stage with full surround sound system and a variety of disco party lights. Tiffany and I rushed backstage as we motioned to the DJ. We had one minute before our stipulated performance.
We arranged our chairs as shuffling of feet could be heard before the stage curtains. The guests were taking their places to watch the performance. I felt adrenaline gush through my veins, but it wasn't nervousness, just a plain spurt of excitement. It was an ultimate enjoyment for me to be on stage. I took my place on the chair, my hand gripping the edge as I parted my legs, my toes outstretched, two spotlights were shone on Tiffany and I, making our legs look a mile longer and slimmer.
Sexy soft jazz played as the curtains parted slowly. From the corner of my eyes, I could make out the figures of Gerald and Lincoln, both taking the prestigious front seats as various other men jostled up in the second row, a bevy of girls in their arms. A saxophone started playing, and it was our cue to start. I flicked my hair back, as I crossed my legs. I then dipped low, as my left fingers trailed up from my toes up to my thighs. My right hand held the back of the chair for support.
I jolted up to stand, my right hand masterfully rotating the chair to bring it to the front. I stole a glance at Tiffany to double check our synchronization, our movements were indeed in unison as we put our left foot on the chairs, throwing our heads back to embrace the seduction of the music. I plopped down onto the chair, my breasts squashed against the backrest of the chair which was back facing the audience. Throwing a wink casually at Gerald who only managed a tiny smile, I paid no attention to his moodiness. Feeling all eyes on me, I turned sideways. My thighs parted and closed to the drops of the bass, as chest pops followed in effortless harmony.
After dishing out a few more well practiced moves, we took to the floor, our asses jutting and gyrating to the music. Crawling has never been more sensual as Tiffany and I crawled under the chairs, our bodies arching in faultless rhythm, undulating to the intensity of the beats. We lied down on the smooth parqueted floor tiles, our legs up straight in the air, adjacent from the audience. The spotlights dimmed to a soft lazy glow, trailing from the legs up as my body moved with the tenderness of the jazz in orgasmic transition. We then knelt facing the audience, hands forward before I stuck out my left arm, my finger gesturing as I whispered the words "Come to me" to match my nefarious stare before the curtains fell to the chaotic applause. And the performance was complete.
Tiffany hugged me as we went backstage. I walked to the patio and found Gerald, whisky in his hand, sulking at a corner. I pawed in noiselessly, removing my mask, and took my place beside him, my hands fully stretched against the balcony railing as I took a deep breath. Gerald acknowledged my presence, but did not speak. And neither did I. I took his glass and downed a huge swig. The grimness of the alcohol fizzled in my throat, leaving a fiery trail, igniting my belly. I never did really appreciated hard liquor on the rocks but I knew how to please Gerald.
Gerald was the CEO of a distinguished company. His austere behavior at work coupled with his capability made him both feared and respected by everyone within his work and social circles. He was not one you would describe as handsome, but his enigmatic and assertive charm made him appear irresistible. A Hongkong and Australian mix, he was tall, probably at 1.78M with fair skin and a slight beer belly. Flecks of gray littered his hair, giving away clues of his age, 42. The well-worn silver ray ban spectacles framed two stern but otherwise large brown eyes. And no one hardly notice due to his lack of positive emotions, but Gerald had beautiful dimples when he smiled.
He disappeared into the Penthouse. I did not bother to move an inch, only reaching for the cigarette pack on the patio table in front of me. My abhorrence for smoking was dampened as I knew Gerald always enjoyed watching me smoke. Photography being his hobby, Gerald was fascinated by the imagery of me with a cigarette between my lips. He said it was nothing short of sexy, and majorly different from how undignified smoking usually made an Asian woman look. True to his compliments, a photo he took of me smoking ended up on the front cover of a local photography magazine.
Gerald emerged from behind the heavy glass doors with a waiter carrying a large bottle of Crystal champagne partially submerged in a bucket of ice, two glasses in his other hand. A spark glimmered in Gerald's eyes when I exhaled the smoke before resting the cigarette at the edge of the ash tray. The champagne meant an additional 2000 dollars slipping into our section's earnings. The waiter bowed politely before exiting the patio, leaving two of us. I watched him pop the champagne, filling the glasses as the liquid gently bubbled. We toasted and sipped, before he whipped out his lighter and lit a cigar.
The remains of my cigarette faded into dying embers on the ash tray as we shared the cigar. He still did not speak. And I knew I was not to rush it. Lincoln crept to the patio with Tiffany by his side. And we had rounds after rounds of champagne as Lincoln attempted to strike casual work conversations with Gerald. I could feel Gerald loosening a bit, but he was still sullen. Lincoln exchanged nervous glances with Tiffany as they turned to look at me imploringly. I nodded and they took their leave.
He took a seat on the patio chair, slouching towards the left side. The ample space left on the spacious seat reflected his evident invitation for me to sit right beside him. To which I did. I tucked my legs under the mesh skirt, the garters tugging at the stockings. I looked right at him with a small innocuous smile across my lips. We clinked glasses, sipping the champagne as he leaned back against the chair, letting out a huge, sad sigh.
He closed his eyes, as I helped to put his glass away onto the table. He clasped his hands together and looked troubled. For a moment, I could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Work?" I questioned.
"No... Angela." He answered, honestly and briskly.
I questioned no further. His distraught wife who had squandered his money on gigolos, left him after falling in love with one of them. Due to the court ruling in her favor as she was after all, a local, Angela never quit in trying to milk more money out of Gerald despite the heavy allowance given. The gigolo obviously left her almost immediately after taking most of the compensation cash from the split. But Gerald still carried a torch for her, never failing to succumb to her false bouts of tears and emotional breakdowns.
The frown across his forehead lightened as I worked my fingers on his thighs into a deep massage. Kneading hard, the smooth fabric of his Giorgio Armani pants made no friction as they flowed fluidly beneath my touch. I felt sorry for him, and a huge part of me wanted to scream at him to wake him up. But we all have our weaknesses, and his was undoubtedly, his love for Angela.
Gerald opened his left eye and squinted at me. I felt his hand patting my arm. I stopped my massage and looked back at him. He sat up to plant a kiss on my forehead before breaking into a smile.
"You always know the right things to do, don't you?" He spoke, the tone of his voice changed drastically, it was now passionate and light-hearted.
"Well, someone here has to take a risk and step right into the middle of the lion's wrath, is it not?" I teased.
He took my hand and we stepped into the Penthouse. Gerald placed an order for 3 more bottles of Crystal and a Belvedere Magnum. We have far exceeded Naomi's section in terms of the daily cash sale. Tiffany rushed over to bring us two over to the mini dance floor as we danced. I winked at Tiffany when the bottles arrived. The party crowd went crazy as we popped the champagne, soaking the guests with frothy goodness, and it was all just a hell load of fun.
Right before Gerald and Lincoln had to leave, Gerald leaned in to kiss my cheek before saying
"You are very special to me, Violette. And there's someone I would love for you to meet. I'll see you on Friday night, okay? Put on a show for me, and strappy heels please." He smiled as we hugged before exiting through the door.
I wondered who that someone was. I have always trusted Lisa's suggestions, and this time, coming from Gerald, I am more eager than ever, because something inside me told me it'd be good.
Lesson 10: In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.
